Chapter 5 #2
With my arm threaded tightly through Clara’s, we made our way toward the market. I made sure to stay alert, watching for any bearded drunkards. A wave of triumph passed through me as I found the pawnbroker’s shop, and we ducked inside discreetly to approach the woman behind the counter.
“I should like a loan upon these, if you please.” I withdrew both brooches and the dainty necklace I had packed in my basket. I held my chin high, maintaining eye contact. She would have no reason to doubt that I was a lady of high standing whose possessions were worth a great deal.
The woman eyed me with a hint of surprise before examining each of the pieces. The smaller of the two brooches fetched ten shillings, while the larger fetched twenty. The necklace secured eight, which brought our earnings to one pound and eight shillings.
I tucked the coins safely under my cloak before leading Clara out onto the street again. A deep sense of accomplishment coursed through my veins, but Clara was staring at me in shock.
“I thought you had already sold those in Hampshire,” she whispered.
“I kept a few things for myself. You cannot possibly believe that Mama didn’t do the same.” I met her gaze with a smirk. “Let us be glad that we are no longer destitute. I didn’t expect to fetch such a substantial amount. We shall eat well for the next two weeks at least.”
Clara’s shoulders relaxed. “And then what?”
Just then, I spotted Mr. Wortham by the docks.
I stopped abruptly above the short cliffs, watching his exchange with another man.
There were dozens of men, all hauling crates of fish and dipping nets and traps into the shallow water.
Other boats floated several feet out in the sea while deep voices crowded the air with words unfit for a lady’s ears.
Roaring laughter met me as a group of men far to the left of Mr. Wortham drank out of amber colored bottles and turned their dirty faces in our direction.
I swallowed hard. I did not want to go down there, no matter my motives.
Mr. Wortham hadn’t seen us yet. I tugged Clara back a few paces and turned toward the market street. I was not about to approach Mr. Wortham empty handed.
We purchased two loaves of bread, two pounds of beef, and filled the rest of our basket with apples, plums, carrots, potatoes, and even some herbs, sugar, cream, and tea.
The pastries were tempting, but not essential.
We would have to ration our food in order to make our earnings last as long as possible, but I tried not to dwell on that fact as we overlooked the beach once again.
Mr. Wortham was still there.
Even with my groceries in hand, I didn’t feel prepared to approach him. It was quite unlike me to feel intimidated by anyone, and it made me vastly unsettled.
Clara gripped my arm and pulled. “Come then, Charlotte.” My feet moved without consulting me as we walked down the sandy pathway.
I nearly slipped on the steep decline. Twice.
I felt the gazes of the fishermen as we made our way down to the beach, but I ignored their laughter and muffled comments.
Mr. Wortham cocked his head in our direction. Then his eyes met mine.
He looked mildly surprised that we would venture down there, but his expression settled into exasperation when he saw the basket of groceries I held proudly on my arm.
As we came closer, he smirked. His black hair was mussed to put it kindly, but combined with a freshly shaven face and green eyes, I had to take two breaths to assure myself that he was below my admiration. Handsomeness and all.
“Good morning Charlotte, Miss Clara,” he greeted with his arms crossed. His choice of improper address was deliberate, and my skin already tingled with vexation. He eyed our basket. “Something tells me you didn’t work for that load.”
I lifted my chin higher. “Of course we didn’t.”
“Ah.” He rubbed his jaw. “The fish wasn’t sufficient?”
Clara spoke before I could. “It will not go to waste, and we thank you most kindly.”
He gave her a smile before his eyes slid to me again, and his expression turned suspicious. “Had a spare reticule, did you? Conned me out of a basket of free fish?”
I scoffed. “No, but I’m afraid you underestimated us. We are more resourceful than you think.” I adjusted the heavy basket. “We will not require anything more from you.”
“Is that so? Then why pay me a visit?”
His question caught me off guard, and I tripped over my reply. “To repay you for the fish.” I quickly reached inside the basket and withdrew an apple, extending it to him.
He stared at it. Clara looked like she wanted to swat my hand away.
He lifted his gaze, lips twitching with amusement. “I only deal in secrets.” Even as he said the words, he took the apple from my hand. He tossed it once in the air before sinking his teeth into it.
Our audience—dozens of dirty fishermen—laughed as they observed the interaction. I hid my mortification, but Clara wore hers boldly on her face.
Mr. Wortham swallowed his bite of the apple, wiping a droplet of juice from his lower lip with his sleeve. He held my gaze through the motion, a challenge gleaming behind his eyes. “How did you come by such an abundance of food, then? Flirt outrageously with the costermonger?”
My nostrils flared with vexation. “That is another secret I don’t intend to share.”
“I suppose you won’t be needing work anytime soon.” He took another bite of the apple, and I was tempted to knock it out of his grip and watch it roll down the sand.
I gritted my teeth, understanding full well how unattractive such an expression was. “We don’t require your assistance. And we certainly won’t buy it from you.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Very well.”
I waited for more, but he was silent. “Very well?”
He nodded and then turned toward the group of men still throwing whistles and jeering laughter in our direction. “Enough ogling and return to the boats!”
The noises fell into slow grumblings. My mouth dropped open in shock and embarrassment.
“Now, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Mr. Wortham tipped his head and turned on his heel. Then he sauntered away with his apple, leaving Clara and me standing in the misty, salt-ridden air of the beach alone.
I stomped up the trail, stifling a cry of outrage. I didn’t care whether Clara followed me. I didn’t care that I had all this fresh food and that I didn’t have to eat fish tonight. I only cared that James Wortham had bested me once again. And I did not like that fact. Not in the slightest.